


The Petrified Rebel

by xenolinguist



Category: Eurovision Song Contest RPF, Festival di Sanremo RPF
Genre: Fabri is a statue and Ermal is the fool who needs to lift the curse, M/M, Magic fic, There's light Andrea/Marco if you squint, True Love's Kiss, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 03:19:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19432855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenolinguist/pseuds/xenolinguist
Summary: The myth of the statue that stood on the town's square is as well known among the people as the tale of the Trojan Horse, as infamous as the Ides of March.The Petrified Rebel is, as delivered from generation to generation, the tragic tale of a enraged young man who dared to question Venus' divinity. Insulted by the young man's audacity, the Goddess cursed him, and there he stood still, frozen in space, enslaved to the course of time until the day his soulmate liberates him from this state with a kiss.…that's at least what Ermal kept telling those countless tourists which asked him day after day about the damn statue. Seriously, had none of them read their tour guides?





	The Petrified Rebel

**Author's Note:**

> It's _my_ birthday but its you who are getting something, huh? Well, it be like this. 
> 
> Got little bit inspired by  this promptand I hope yall like the end product :)
> 
> pls comment ❤️
> 
> follow me on tumblr:  bunny-banana

Some say the myth of the Petrified Rebel predates the founding of the city for centuries, others claim it occurred during the late period of the Roman Empire, but all in all, the story had been retold and delivered from one generation to the next since time immemorial. For the people of the region, it just became a part of common knowledge, something you've grown up with, something you've always known. In elementary school, you'd doodle him for art class because you find him funny, in high school you'd hold a presentation on him and muse how much of history he has seen so far, and in university, you'd realise how many tourists he lures into your small town each summer by just standing at one spot where he had stood since forever.  
  
The Petrified Rebel did indeed gather a large number of admires every day; something that the Rebel himself would have probably never believed to be possible during the days he walked the Earth, as it was the lack of faith in love that doomed a young man for an eternity trapped in stone.  
The details may vary from scholar to scholar, from poet to poet, but the core story always remained the same: Once upon a time a young man, ridden with rage, cursed the Gods in the middle of the field close to the shore. The words he yelled to the sky were of such crudeness that the Gods felt compelled to acknowledge him. One Goddess in particular. When Venus appeared before him, the young man did everything but worship her. In contrary, his anger rose upon seeing the Goddess.  
  
_'You call yourself Goddess of Love and yet, my path leads me from one misery into another.'_ He proclaimed.  
  
_'Mortal, you are mistaken. Your misery is not my doing. Love may come to you, but you will have to be patient.'_  
  
Dissatisfied, the young man cursed again.  
_'Lies. Nothing but lies. I have no faith in love anymore, good things are simply not meant for me. And if you were truly a Goddess of Love you would have proven me wrong, yet you only give me empty promises, like the false herald that you are. You and your love are both false and corrupt!'_  
  
Words spoken with such venom angered the usually timid Venus. Mortals disobeying and rebelling against the Gods in such fashion was unheard of. But in particular, claiming she was a False Herald was an insult of tremendous magnitude.  
  
_'You ungrateful mortal! How dare you question me! How dare you think of yourself that high! I told you to be patient, but you refuse. Now if you seek love so desperately, this is exactly what you will be forced to do! Be patient for all of eternity until love arrives!'_  
  
A lightning shot through the sky so bright that it illuminated the dark night for a few moments, before darkness reigned again. When the smoke cleared from the field, the rebellious juvenile stood there in his toga, marble covering every spot of his body. Was he once fidgeting from energy, he stood now still, frozen in space, enslaved to the course of time until the day his soulmate liberates him from this state with a kiss.  
  
…..that's at least what Ermal kept telling those countless tourists which asked him day after day about the damn statue. Seriously, had none of them read their tour guides? Had none of them googled the sights before their trip? Instead they deemed it appropriate to bombard the poor guy working the kiosk for informations? Incredible.  
  
The thing is, university kept him busy over the winter months, so obviously he tried to make some money during the summer and any job would do. Really, any job at all. Even selling those shitty souvenirs and magnets at the Piazza under 35°C, right across that goddamn statue where the tourists flocked like moths around a lamp. One of these days, Ermal was convinced he could collapse from a heat stroke then and there and these people wouldn't even notice, with them being glued to that piece of marble, with one arm always dutifully stretched out in an attempt to make a perfect selfie.  
  
"She can't even reach his face, I doubt she'd be his soulmate, I mean Venus certainly made sure his soulmate would be at least tall enough to kiss him, right?" Andrea mumbled as he watched a petite blonde standing on her toes in order to peck the state's cheeks.  
  
"The legend never specified that his face needs to be kissed, maybe it would work if she kissed his hand." Marco helpfully added as he slurped on the Capri Sun which Ermal had given him. The shop owner surely wouldn’t miss one or two drinks, right?  
  
"When you two said you'd come by to keep me company, I imagined we could talk about sophisticated topics like your internship, Marco, or your holiday plans, Andrea, or the weather, or movies, or music, or really anything at all except of y'know, the damn fairytale I kind of retell every day since the beginning of June!"  
A grumpy voice piped in on he folding chair between the other two. If it weren't so hot, he'd stop waving the fan in front of his face and smack them with it.  
  
"Aw, don't be like this, Ermal. The thing is right in front of us and it's fun to watch all the different people coming to the city." Andrea argued timely when the petite blonde's phone slipped out of her hand before she could take the selfie. Well, let's hope it wasn't an iPhone.  
  
"Oh yeah, it sure is entertaining to watch them make a fool of themselves."  
  
"Let people have their fun. For what it's worth, at least, the Rebel and the tourists are the reason you're getting paid this month." Marco nudged his side but all Ermal could do was roll his eyes.  
  
"Oh thank you so much, dearest Rebel."  
  
Where the petite blonde stood before, there were now two buff guys, maybe in their mid 20s, each kissing a cheek of the statue while giving a thumbs up to the camera. Ermal shook his head. Being dumb enough to actually believe the legend was one thing, but being dumb enough to simultaneously kiss the statue with your partner was truly outstanding stupidity. Would you even know who of you two is the Rebel's soulmate if you kissed him at the same time? And would you then leave your partner on the spot because an ancient legend said that this piece of stone is your true love? Idiotic.  
  
"I'll take these two, please."  
  
A soft voice shook Ermal out of his thoughts and when he looked up to the owner of said voice, he realised its the petite blonde who held up two magnet in front of him.  
Swiftly, he stood up and started wrapping the items into newspapers. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed how she kept glancing back at the statue.  
  
"It really is an interesting legend, y'know. I've never heard of such a story before."  
  
"It certainly is unique, that's true." The young man added less enthusiastically as he put the neatly wrapped souvenirs into a bag, but thankfully the young woman didn't notice his disdain as she handed him the money and mindlessly whispered to herself "I wonder how much is real about the legend." Once she was out of earshot and Ermal back in his folding chair, he turned to his friends.  
  
"You heard her? _'I wonder how much is real about the legend'._ If it wouldn't cost my job, I'd tell her, the legend is as real as her Made in China magnets are Italian."  
  
"Actually,” The the straw poked through the second Capri Sun as Marco crossed his legs elegantly which Ermal knew was a sign that he was about to dive into a long story. “I watched a documentary the other night and they might have found some historic evidence that the Rebel was actually real."  
If that was the moment Ermal was supposed to gasp, he might have missed the cue. Andrea found more enthusiasm however.  
  
"Oh my god, what??"  
  
"Of course he was real. He was probably the brat of some senator who commissioned a statue to be made of his kid just to show of much cash he has."  
  
"No, not at all. Historians actually traced a few ancient records back and they think the Rebel might have been born in a poor village in Lazio, which would nowadays fall into the city borders of Rome. Apparently, he was madly in love with a girl from the village when they were teenagers. She was his first love, but as poor as her family was, they sold her into marriage and that's how they separated."  
  
Andrea gasped and put a hand over his mouth.  
"Oh no! No wonder the Rebel didn't believe in love anymore. Losing your first love is always tough!"  
  
"Yeah, obviously _that's_ the real tragedy here and not the selling of a child bride. Okay." The curly haired man mumbled disdainfully under his breath as he got up from his chair again when he saw a family of four approach his kiosk. A mother, father and two wild little kids. If they were once pale, one wouldn't know from the redness in their faces. Ermal contemplated giving them directions to the next dermatologist.  
  
"But that's not all!” Marco added excitedly. “After that, he allegedly inscribed into a gladiator school-"  
  
"Ohhh, that's why he's so muscular!" their youngest friend practically purred.  
  
"Keep it in your pants, Vigentini, would you?" The young vendor swiftly turned around and lightly smacked his friend over the head with his fan. "Anyway, so he was beating up a bunch of lions in the Colosseum, and then?"  
  
Four water bottles and five postcards for the family that seemed to speak German…or Dutch. He wasn't sure, but at least they could also speak some English.  
  
"Now this is interesting. A certain information has been just recently brought to light, namely that the Rebel apparently had a lover in the the gladiator school."  
  
Just as he was about to pull out the last water bottle out of the mini fridge, Ermal froze and glanced back at Marco in disbelief.  
"A lover in the gladiator school? But that would mean-"  
  
"He was with a man, yes. The town's most famous attraction was apparently a flexible guy."  
  
A smirk spread on Marco's lips and Ermal had to admit, he was surprised about that new information as well. Certainly, there have been countless men trying their luck by kissing the statue, but Ermal hadn't really contemplated that Rebel actually did swing that way. In fact he had never thought about the Rebel as a person at all.  
"Oh man, I've heard all sorts of things about the Rebel in school but I've never been taught that." Andrea mused to which Ermal could only shake his head.  
"I wonder why."  
  
Teaching kids about the World Wars and the atrocities of the Roman Empire was fine, but telling them a man loves another man? Now that's just too much, isn't it.  
  
"Yeah, but his lover was brutally killed during a battle in the arena. A battle the Rebel apparently watched, so he basically died right in front of his eyes."  
A small silence set in after that where both Andrea and Ermal simply gaped at Marco in shock.  
  
"Oh my God."  
"Fuck."  
  
The curly haired man leaned against the kiosk and took a deep breath. That was… That was a harsh. Should this guy have really existed, then Ermal felt something almost akin to pity for him. A loved one dying is terrible as it is, but having to watch them die is a hard pill to swallow. Even for imaginary Romans from fake legends.  
  
"Yeah it’s bad. Some sources say he'd been too shocked to continue his profession, others say he might have gotten injured himself, but in any case, some time after that incident, he quite the gladiator life and became a guard for a wealthy Roman family. The eldest daughter loved to paint in various gardens of Rome and hence he was assigned as her personal guard."  
  
"Hmmmm a daughter from a rich family and her poor guard. What could ever go wrong here?"  
Despite himself, Ermal had to admit, that guy really did get around a lot. At least he got laid properly.  
  
"She apparently always went on how much she'd love to paint different countrysides, different motives than the ever same gardens in Rome. So one day they just eloped."  
  
"....They eloped." Ermal deadpanned while Andrea' eyes went wide.  
  
"How romantic!"  
"No, how stupid!” The older boy slapped a hand over his eyes because frankly, how could he not? “Her father surely sent men after them! And where would they even go without money and a roof over their head?! They must have been always on the run?"  
  
"Maybe they were selling her paintings!"  
  
"Hmmm, a state where slavery was the norm certainly was a pioneer of the feminist movement. Sure."  
  
Andrea opened his mouth to counter but Marco was quicker than him and cleared his throat. Once he had gotten the attention of both his friends he continued.  
  
"They did seem to be constantly on the run for a few years, yes, but no idea how they did it. In fact their love was very vague. There are evidences of them winding up here, and then there are records of her returning to Rome alone some time later. But in between there's nothing."  
  
Two curly guys blinked dumbfounded at Marco, until the younger one frowned deep in thoughts.  
  
"You think her father's men finally caught up with them and brought her back?"  
  
"See, Andrea, I thought that too but then they would have killed the Rebel for sure. Or he would have followed her had he survived."  
  
"Oh and what if he was injured or sick and couldn't go?"  
  
"Yeah, but even then, they had no contact with one another anymore, she even married afterwards and he didn't even try to stop it."  
"Hey Holmes and Watson." A fan was waving between Marco and Andrea, ultimately breaking their intense eye contact and haltering their deduction work for a moment.  
"May I suggest something? Perhaps, it wasn't anything as dramatic as you two paint it to be, perhaps they just…. fell out of love?"  
  
Is that what it felt like to come up with a revolutionary concept? Is that the look people give you then? Because Marco and Andrea gaped at him as if he reinvented the wheel when the answer to the riddle was so obvious to Ermal.  
  
"I mean, look, if they fell out of love, she would have no reason to stay with him anymore, she could go back to her life in Rome. And if they really were together for some time, he must have thought that she was The One, y’know, after all these failed loves. And having been proved wrong yet again… that really must have been the final nail in the coffin for him."  
  
Sometimes the quieter, subdued things are the bigger tragedies. Ermal knows that. Ermal has been there and he really wished he hadn’t been. Because is there anything more bitter than truly believing you have found that one person for you and then everything you’ve had together, the hopes, the dreams, the future, goes up in smoke by nothing more than the realisation that you are not in love anymore? No cheating, no problems. The love just...ended. Simple as that, which made it so more devastating.  
  
"You must be experienced in the matter of the heart to come to such a brilliant conclusion." a deep yet soft voice spoke up, startling Ermal out of his thoughts. Promptly he turned around to see a woman in front of the kiosk waltzing around. Tall, dark skin with even darker hair in spectral contrast to the light rosé dress she wore and the grey eyes that bore into him.  
All three boys were rendered speechless for a moment at her sight. How long has she been standing there anyway? None of them noticed her approaching. But as much as they were mesmerised by her ethereal beauty, Ermal slowly found his voice again.  
  
"I, uhm, well, that's the only thing that would make sense. Why else would he have stayed here and not gone after her?"  
  
"Indeed." She nodded. Her hands traced the various souvenirs on kiosk, her eyes lazily following her hand yet seemed not truly unfocused on items in front of her.  
"With so much loss and tragedy in such a young life, his capacity for love turned into rage. But the lesson, even if cruel, he had to be taught regardlessly."  
  
"Well, duh. What idiot goes up and curses out the Gods?! No impulse control whatsoever. He should consider himself lucky that Venus didn't smite him on the spot."  
  
A restrained laugh was heard behind him, and Ermal glanced back he was met with Marco smirking mischievously.  
"I thought you didn't believe in the legend."  
  
" _Marco,_ I'm gonna deprive you from your Capri Sun privileges!" Ermal snatched the half full juice package out of his hands and started slurping himself. It's not like Marco had paid for it anyway. "Also, I was just speaking hypothetically."  
  
"Oh, so you have doubts?"  
The stranger cocked her head to the side and something just snapped in Ermal in that moment. Was it the surprise in her voice, the challenge in her eyes or the fact that he had put up with this topic day after day for weeks, he couldn’t tell, but now he had enough.  
  
"Ma'am, with all due respect, but believing actual historic records that some sad Roman guy may have found his way to our side of the country, yes, that I will do. But believing his lonely ass got turned into stone and has been laying around on our town square for centuries only for True Love's kiss to awaken him as if he's a Disney Princess? No, that's pushing it. That's just stupid! How would that whole soulmate thing even work? You look at each other and suddenly you're head over heels? That's not how love works, love needs time, love needs work, love doesn't just happen like this and especially not through some Divine intervention."  
  
An uncomfortable silence set in between the four of them after that outburst with only the sounds of the sea and the chatting of the tourists audible in the background.  
"Man, you and the Rebel could go hand in hand, y'know. If Venus would hear that, you sure would be the next to be petrified." Marco whistled as he shook his head disapprovingly. Even the woman in rosé narrowed her sharp eyes which only made Ermal even more uncomfortable.  
  
"As much as you pride yourself with logic and common sense, your conviction means nothing without trial and error." She spoke calmly but her words still had a certain bite to them. A certain something that made them cut deeper than they should. And if it weren't enough already, Andrea hummed in agreement behind him.  
  
"Yeah, she's right, have you ever kissed him?"  
  
"Wh- of course not! Why would I? Don't tell me you two have."  
  
His eyes wandered back and forth between Marco and Andrea who both suddenly seemed to walk on eggshells.  
  
At long last, Marco cleared his throat while mindlessly playing with the hem of his t-shirt.  
"After Anna and I broke up, I was…not in the best state. I was just so upset and I guess, I'm a bit sentimental after all. The legend just seemed so romantic, it would have been nice had it worked out."  
  
Oh, no. Now Ermal regretted having asked. He remembers his friend during that time period, he wasn't his usual self, that was true. And being the gentle soul that he is, it would have made sense that Marco gave it a try. Perhaps Ermal miscalculated the value of the legend. At very least, it was giving people hope for love.  
  
He turned to his curly friend who shrugged nonchalantly.  
"Hey, he's rather nicely built. Brawny and all that. Who wouldn't try their luck? He could have carried me with those arms."  
  
…And then there were this kind of horndogs.  
  
"Goddammit, Andrea!" Once Ermal fished the fan out of his back pocket, Andrea's head was once more victim of his friend's smacking, before the older boy turned around again.  
  
"I'm sorry about my friend's-- huh, where is she?"  
  
Just when Ermal was about to apologise to the lady about his friend's naughtiness, he noticed that the woman had vanished. Judging by the incredulous expressions of his friends, they too hadn't noticed her sudden absence until it was pointed out. Bizarre.  
  
  
*****  
  
  
The hours passed and had the sun once been at its zenith, it was now touching the ocean at the horizon. Marco and Andrea stayed for some more time and after the strange encounter with the lady in pink, they all silently agreed to shift their conversation to other topics. Marco had indeed found a place for an internship, where he’d work for the next few weeks.  
  
“Hey, they don’t pay badly and the people seem nice. I think I can handle that.”  
“So that means you don’t wanna come down to play football with us anymore?” Andrea inquired a bit miffed and had Ermal not known better he would say Marco was almost grateful that he was occupied now. As much as he tried his best, it was rather obvious that Marco wasn’t talented when it came to football. Why he still tagged along with Ermal and Andrea each Tuesday was, frankly, a mystery.  
  
The boy in question bit his lips awkwardly, something that guaranteed a lie was to follow.  
“Oh Andrea, that’s not what I said, it’s just the tight schedule but I’ll- I’ll try to make it work!”  
  
Still visibly miffed, yet satisfied enough with that promise, Andrea let it go. For now. And speaking of which, the youngest of the group was telling them about his upcoming trip back home to Milan.  
“It’s been months since I’ve been home and not only that but, I’ve got two tickets for this underground band. They’re pretty new and not really famous outside the city, but they’re bomb and I can’t wait to see them!” He grinned excitedly.  
“W-who is accompanying you?” Marco, apparently, was more interested in that part of the whole story. Ermal raised an eyebrow, not that any of the two had noticed him anyway.  
“Uhm, well, it was planned that my old high school friend Chiara was to go with me, but she had to cancel last minute. Some family emergency. So, I guess I’ll go alone.” He shrugged nonchalantly but his eyes never left Marco’s, as if he was waiting for something. And that something didn’t need long to happen.  
“You said the gig is this weekend?”  
“Hmm.”  
“Would you- I mean, if it doesn’t bother you- I- I could accompany you, maybe. All things considered, it’s better to not go alone and I wouldn’t mind hearing some new music. And Milan, I haven't been there in quite some time. So, I guess, there’s no better tour guide than a native, right?” Marco was not someone who easily stuttered, neither did he ever seem to be the nervous kind, and still, both of these things did apply to him in that moment.  
  
“I’d love to.” came an answer that didn’t need much contemplation. “I’d- sure, I’d love if you could come along. And it would be so cool to show you the city.” Andrea’s toothy grin was met by one disbelieving yet radiant smile of his counterpart and suddenly Ermal understood why Marco always came along to football practice.  
  
Soon after that, the two friends said goodbye to Ermal, both needing some time to plan their Milan trip together and promising to send Ermal a postcard. It wasn’t only them who left. Gradually, the square emptied itself from the loads of tourists. Children being dragged home by their parents, exhausting couples finding their way back to their hotels and the bars slowly tieing up the tables and chairs on the outside terrace as well. The young vendor, being the diligent and responsible employee that he was, was also wrapping up for today. Go one last time through the billing, see if any money is amiss, store the magnets and souvenirs away for the following day, rearrange the magazines, restock the mini fridge and finally call it a day and lock up the kiosk. Sure, he was only working for the actual kiosk owner, but wrapping everything up in the evening gave me a feeling of completion, accomplishment even a bit of pride. Yes, obviously the money was also nice, but being actually able to handle this little chaotic kiosk with its chaotic tourists every day all by himself was a rather nice bonus. Huh. Maybe the Rebel was to be thanked after all.  
  
He glanced over the now deserted square towards the statue. Unmoved and unchanged since time immemorial. He wouldn’t be caught admitting that even if life depended on it, but seeing the marble statue illuminated by the moon in the otherwise dark night, for once liberated of the nagging tourists which at times seemed worse that pigeons….it had something beautiful about it. Something peaceful and almost ethereal. That, or Ermal was just discovering a previously unknown fondness for sculpting.  
  
Perhaps there was somewhere also a logical explanation why his steps slowly approached the statue, perhaps there wasn’t, but suddenly he found himself circling the piece of stone. Observing it, checking it over. He had never been up that close and some part of him started regretting it because the details to this sculpture were _breathtaking._ The folds of his toga, the beard on his face, Hell, even the wild hair sticking in all directions. Reaching that level of realistic sculpting was almost impossible if your name isn’t Michelangelo….except that fella still had to be born at the time of the sculpture’s creation. And not only that, Ermal realised as his eyes traced the fine veins on the Rebel’s arms (huh, Andrea did have a point about those!) until they reached his face. His expression, it was not a pleasant one. Not one sculptures usually had. Oh no, he frowning deeply, angry eyes glaring in front of him, his mouth tight. Very unusual but quite expressive indeed.  
  
“You really were one angry guy, weren’t you? But taking it out at a Goddess? Pfff, stupid.” Ermal whispered condescendingly but something at the very far corner of his mind kept telling him just how stupid he himself was for talking to a piece of stone. Really, what was he doing? Since when did he stick around at the square after work? Since when did he treat this fairytale as anything more than a bedtime story? He should go now. He should turn around now, yes, that’s exactly what he was doing, but as he took a few steps away a phantom of a memory materialised in front of his eyes.  
  
_‘Your conviction means nothing without trial and error.’_  
That voice in his head, it was mocking him. Mocking his pride, mocking his intellect. But worst of all, it was mocking the fact that Ermal would give in nevertheless. Fine. Okay. Once he got this over with, nobody could ever accuse him of being realistic without reason. It was like a scientific experiment. Ermal being the scientist who would need proof to confirm his theory once and for all, and the Rebel the poor frog who was about to get dissected. Or, well, kissed, in this case.  
  
Ermal jumped on the little platform the statue has been placed and balanced himself by holding onto the Rebel’s wrists, thoroughly observing him now up close. Even if the face was distorted by anger, his fine features were noticeable. Gorgeous plumb lips and a rather delicate button nose in addition to a pair of high cheekbones. That so uncharacteristically soft face was interestingly in contrast to the rough beard and the untamed hair.  
  
“Handsome bastard you are. No wonder all the girls and guys were falling to their feet for you.”  
  
  
This was stupid. This was so very very stupid. Talking to a piece of stone. _Kissing_ a piece of stone. Yeah, it really was dumb. But he should get it over with now, and he definitely wasn’t stalling because it felt almost as exciting as his first kiss. No, not at all.  
  
He took one last breath. Here we go  
  
He bowed down a bit, tilted his head to the side and finally leaned into a kiss. His own warm lips pressed firmly against the cool and solid marble and may have stayed there for longer than he would like to acknowledge. But what happened next when he finally pulled away was…. Nothing.  
  
Nothing?!  
  
  
Yes, of course, nothing. Nothing happening is what he had expected. What he hoped for anyway. No surprises there, nope. Everything according to Ermal's plan, yes, indeed. Only a fool would be disappointed, or God forbid, upset, that nothing has happened. Which Ermal wasn't of course.  
  
Ermal would have dwelled further into his non-existent disappointment had he not noticed a sound. A ..clinking. As if something hit the ground.  
"Huh?"  
  
His eyes followed the sound and landed to the ground where between his feet he spotted a tiny, almost paper thin piece of…of marble?  
  
"What?!"  
  
Did he manage to accidentally damage the statue? After centuries of perfect condition and he was the one to make it crumble?! Are you for real?!  
Hectically his eyes snapped upwards to see where that piece had fallen off but then he froze.  
  
The fallen piece seemed to have been the place Ermal kissed mere moments ago, but now instead of white marble, pink-ish lips peeked out. Real actual human lips.  
Too shocked to move, yet too intrigued to look away, Ermal could only watch as thin cracks started to spread through the stone as if the marble was a fine coat becoming too brittle to remain intact.  
And then it all happened so fast.  
  
First the face covered in cracks, then the torso until it reached the arms. By then, the splitting of the marble made an unpleasant, audible noise before the pieces started falling off, setting free what lured underneath it. And with the coat of marble crumbling, Ermal suddenly found himself with a heavy body falling into his arms. A heavy, warm body. A living being. Jesus fucking Christ.  
  
What a fortunate thing it was that Ermal's own body decided to go autopilot, because his mind certainly wasn't ready to compute any of this yet. And perhaps never would. But first things first. He managed to a few steps back until his legs hit the small wall separating the square from the shore, where he finally sat down.  
He glanced back to the spot where a statue ought to be standing, where it had been standing for centuries. And yet all there was now were pieces of marble on the ground, resembling eggshells. And the hatched bird was currently still slumped against Ermal's torso, face unconsciously buried into the young man's crook.  
  
The realisation hit him harder than he would like to admit, made him almost pass out himself. This was real. The legend was actual real. It had to be, he saw it with his own eyes. As if he didn’t feel the weight against his body, he glanced at the man in his arms. The stiff stone had turned to unruly black hair, the kind that looks so soft that it devilishly tempts you to run your fingers through it. And under the wool toga, wonderfully sun-kissed skin peeked through. What a pleasant sight it was. When the marble started cracking, seeing such nice dark skin emerge underneath it was the last thing Ermal expected. In fact, Ermal hadn’t expected the marble to crack in the first place either. Not after it didn’t do anything after he had ki--  
  
“OH FUCK!”  
  
Had he have more time, he would screaming about the implications and meaning of these divine interventions in his love life in further detail, but as it was, his shocked outburst managed to awaken the man in his arms (twince in 10 minutes, this time less metaphorically and less ….kissy) who promptly let out a hoarse groan.  
  
"Ugh, by the Gods… Wha- where--?"  
  
So he speaks. Good. Okay. Alright. Further confirmation that this wasn’t an elaborated joke set up by his friends featuring a dummy. At least he isn’t unconscious anymore. The young vendor swallowed, pushed those nerve wrecking revelations in the back of his mind, took a deep breath and started cautiously.  
  
"A-are you okay?" No, he probably wasn’t. Nobody would be after whatever the fuck this guy went through, but Ermal had no clue what else to ask someone after a thousand year long coma.  
"I- I- my head is aching. Exhausted. Tired.” He groaned again. A voice of remarkable but not unpleasant hoarseness, Ermal noted. “Like the sensation of too much wine, but significantly worse."  
  
Well, at least he was fun at parties, it seems.  
  
"Yeah, that might happen if you hadn't used those muscles in a while. What's the last thing you remember?"  
  
“Hnngh, I- I was at the field.” The man slowly leaned away from Ermal and put his head into his hands, massaging his temples. “Yelling, shouting. Rage. Rage had filled me and- and then-”  
  
“Venus?”  
  
“Yes, she appeared and we were in disagreement. She wanted me to wait, to wait until love finds me. And after that… After that I cannot recall.”  
  
“Disagreement, huh?” Despite himself, Ermal had to chuckle. “Such a fancy way to say you were a little bit of a cocky bastard towards the Gods. What did you think would happen? She'd let your mortal ass just get away with it?”  
  
The mockery wasn't lost to the man in his arms, but how unfair it was! The person who the voice belonged to had not been there to witness it, he did not have the right to parody the Roman's actions, even if they had been rather impulsive. Had the voice been in his place, he would have certainly acted the same way! Who was he to judge?!  
The thought irked him to the point that he finally lifted his head and growled  
"And who are you?!"  
  
The second the former statue's gaze met Ermal's something so powerful occurred that, for the lack of better words, one would call it divine.  
Brown eyes were common, especially in the south of Italy. And yet the pair of chocolate orbs in front of Ermal were so out of this world that for a moment he thought they might be an entirely new colour altogether. But no, they were still brown. A lovely brown, a brown that was filled with warmth, with compassion, with love and dedication. He didn't understand how he could know all of this by just looking into them, but he did anyway. The same way he just knew how beautiful these freckles would look like if they were accentuated with a blush underneath them, how those lips could give him the loveliest of smiles and the most mischievous of smirks and how he wanted to make both of them happen as often as possible.  
  
Across from him, the young Roman had not been ready for the sight that awaited him after his slumber. The thought crossed him, that this might be Venus' vengeance, perhaps she bewitched him with hallucinations, otherwise how could this be real? A man sat across from him whose fair face was framed with such lovely dark curls that the noblewomen of Rome would turn green from envy. A prominent nose and thin, sharp features that had a certain striking charm to it yet nothing was as capturing as his eyes. Eyes as dark as the night, as dark as the best wines of Rome. So dark you feared they'd swallow you yet you wouldn't mind, because they promised so much inside them. Wisdom, depth, and the sharp wit he had already fallen victim to, and yet he couldn't find it in himself to be irked about it anymore.  
Oh and, by the Gods, a small silver ornament graced his face! How extraordinarily particular this man was.  
  
"I'm- I'm Ermal."  
  
Ermal. All his life he had never heard of such an exotic name, yet it immediately branded into his memory. Unforgettable just like the rest of Ermal. Unique and eye-catching that he almost felt embarrassingly plain in Ermal's presence. He bashfully cleared his throat.  
  
"My name is Fabrizio."  
  
Fabrizio. The actual name of the Petrified Rebel. He was called Fabrizio. A question that has kept up historians and researchers for decades, without any luck for the answer whatsoever. The true identity of the mythological hero was revealed to him just like that but despite the knowledge of how momentous this was, all Ermal could think of is how the beauty of the name fit the beauty of the owner.  
  
And as much as they would have loved to simply gaze into one another, trying to wrap their minds around something of ineffable, a sudden disturbing thought overcame Fabrizio who started looking around.  
  
"Ermal, what happened to me? And where are we? I recognise the shore but the field...it's gone." In fact, all of what he once knew was gone. There were houses and building around but constructed in a fashion he had never seen before.  
  
"Oh my…” His companion suddenly looked gloomy and Fabrizio felt worried what answer awaited him “You see, when I said Venus wouldn't let you off the hook that easily I didn't actually mean she'd only put you to sleep. She… well, she petrified you, turned you into marble and you've been on that field, well now it's our town square, but you've been on that spot ever since, I guess. You're basically a famous tale by now." He quietly finished with pity in his voice.  
  
"A tale? But- how long have I been petrified?!"  
  
Good question. Let’s check.  
  
"Have you…. by any chance ever heard of a Jewish carpenter who got crucified? Did some miracles, got a bit popular, went by the name of 'Jesus'?"  
  
"Who?!"  
  
Okay, this was worse than Ermal thought. He tentatively held Fabrizio by his arms, steading him, before he slowly started to speak again.  
  
“Alright, don’t freak out, but I’d guess you’ve snoozed for at least the past two thousand years. Possibly more.”  
  
Instead of yelling, or crying or any outburst Ermal had feared that would happen, the Roman simply stared. And stared. Motionlessly. And stared some more. Did he not need to blink any time soon? The younger man was just about to check his pulse if maybe Fabrizio’s body had shut down completely, when he heard the other man exhale deeply.  
“Two…. _thousand_...years?”  
As deeply as he had exhaled before, he inhaled just as strongly. His entire breathing became rather unsteady and fast as Ermal felt him shake under his hands. Ah, here it is, the shock.  
  
  
“Okay, okay, calm down, we got this. Fabrizio, calm down.”  
  
Easier said than done, since the poor guy just started to shake harder, his eyes becoming unfocused, glancing hectically left and right. Ermal’s hands moved up to cup his his face, steading him and making him look again into his eyes. Not unlike a fish on dry land, his mouth opened and closed a few times before he finally muttered.  
  
“I- but- the army- I wanted to enlist-- they were looking for men to go to Gaul, I--”  
  
“Oh? Uhm, well, we can still go to France. Some day. If you want. Not to colonise them, though. They got rather skilled at that themselves in the past few centuries.” Ermal finished lamely but his words were lost to Fabrizio who shook his head.  
“I- I don’t know what to say. I- “ He took a sharp intake of air as tears pooled into his eyes. This was the punishment in its rawest form. The full cruel impact the waiting would have that Venus had promised him and she did not disappoint. “Is Rome- is it- ?” Too anxious he was to finish his inquiry, but fortunately Ermal understood nevertheless.  
“Yes, it’s still there. Beautiful as ever and even still the capital. But the Empire fell however.”  
  
“W-What?!”  
He tore himself out of Ermal’s reach at the revelation and went back to imitating a fish.  
“Yeah, and then Rome became the centre of a new religion that sort of took over the world a bit.”  
  
“A new _what?!?”_  
  
“But right after that we made some really nice art. Raphael, Da Vinci. Which you can still see nowadays, like in the Louvre! Yeah, we should definitely go to France some day. Anyway, then for a while everyone had their own little kingdoms on the peninsula before one day two guys sat down and decided to unite the whole bunch. Which was okay until the Second World War knocked on the door-”  
  
“The _Second-?!?”_  
  
“-Yeah, it was a messy shit show. Didn’t work out for anyone involved really. But after that, things have calmed down. On the bigger scale. There’s still tons of problems here and there. But at least nobody’s being sent to war, I suppose.”  
  
Judging from Fabrizio’s unchanged posture and expression, one could almost think he had been petrified again, had he not started leaning back until he was fully laying on the small stone wall.  
“Two thousand years.” he whispered flatly into the night “Two thousand years of- of new religions and- art and kingdoms and wars - and the Gods know what else.”  
He let out a shaky breath and tried to ground himself. Let all these informations sink it while he gazed up to the stars which decorated the veil of darkness wrapped around the sky. And Fabrizio realised a part of him was bizarrely enough glad that he’d stayed at the shore side for all these years; the sound of the waves hitting would never change and the stars above had not fallen down yet either. A small but much needed comfort.  
"Through all of this I have been petrified. Until today.” Indeed until today, until Ermal found him.  
  
As quick as he had laid down, he rose again with a thrilling realisation echoing in his mind now.  
“You unpetrified me. That means you must be…”  
Looking back, the thunder that shot through his body and that beautiful spiral of endless ecstasy rushing through his veins upon seeing Ermal made much more sense now. Ermal, it’s him. He’s the One. Oh my stars, that heart of his which once was hard as stone suddenly felt like doing extraordinary flips inside his chest again, a joy overcoming him unlike anything he knew before.  
  
Ermal was in no different condition, he too grinned from ear to ear. The curly haired man hoped he could at least preserve a little bit of composure and not give in to the flush that’s been forming on his face, but it was a losing game when he looked at the downright adorable man across from him.  
  
_‘Damn him and his cute smile. He shouldn’t have such powers over me, he doesn’t even know what a banana was.’_  
  
  
“I suppose I am.”  
“And how did you exactly unpetrify me?”  
“You don't know?”  
“How should I? Venus never told me, no.”  
“Well, the legend said one should kiss the statue and if you’re his soulmate, he’ll be revived. So after everyone else already tried their luck, I figured it was was my turn now. Which was disgusting, by the way. Heaven knows how many germs were on that marble from those thousands if not millions of tourists that had snogged you before. But in all my endless bravery and benevolence, I still took the risk just for the chance to save you.”  
  
Fabrizio neither knew what those ‘germs’ or ‘tourists’ were but regardlessly, he could still feel that there was something exaggerated about this story. He indulged Ermal however and played along.  
  
“Hmmmm so if I were to be petrified again, you'd once more risk your life to save me?”  
“It's the decent thing to do after all. Someone else might get it wrong.”  
“Oh, indeed, very noble of you.” Fabrizio made a show of thoughtfully nodding along. “And I wouldn't bother you with it but alas, I do feel my body getting stiff again. Perhaps Venus' curse hasn't entirely worn off?”  
“How fortunate that I know what to do.”  
  
  
They knew great things were in store for them. They knew it in the way a unnamable force pulled them together, in the way their lips met and fit together just so perfectly, in the way their lungs craved air but they still wouldn't stop kissing each other, how their skin burned without the sun roasting them, how they untangled themselves just enough to let their foreheads touch, one looking as undone as the other felt.  
There was potential there. Raw and infinite potential for them both. They didn’t know what they’d face tomorrow, next week, next year, but neither of them couldn’t wait to find out.  
  
  
  
Unbeknownst to the pair, they had not been entirely alone. Behind a lamp post that had so conveniently short circuit that evening, a dress peek out. A dress, they would have realised had they been a bit more attentive, whose rosé colour stood out quite a lot in the dark.  
Owner of said dress had kept a keen eye on them as they shared their first kiss, as they held each other, as that unconditional love manifested in them. She had observed it all with timid glee and cunning glint in her grey orbs. After all, she too has been waiting for this but at long last, she knew her job was finally done for good when she heard a once so stubborn and raging Roman whisper tenderly against his soulmate’s lips:  
  
_“I’ve been waiting for you for years”_


End file.
